


I Can't Go Back There Anymore

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Series: 1960s [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Drug Use, F/F, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: When Diana Fowley returns to New York's hippie scene after selling out and moving away, Melissa Scully is happy to have her best friend back.  But the complications Diana brings into the burgeoning relationship between Melissa's sister Dana and Fox Mulder force Melissa to examine her own feelings for Diana.





	I Can't Go Back There Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third fic in my 1960s AU; the first fic, "How to Expand Your Mind," is especially recommended to help this one make sense. In terms of timeline, it falls the year after "How to Expand Your Mind." 
> 
> The title comes from Joni Mitchell's "I Had a King."
> 
> I don't own The X-Files or anything related to it. Hope you enjoy!

The woman standing on the front steps of her building was wearing a crisp blue dress and had her hair in a perfect flip, and as she walked towards her, Melissa wondered how she ended up in this neighborhood.  But when she got closer, the woman turned around and said, “Hi,” giving her a tentative smile, and Melissa’s breath caught.  Because it was Dee.

She’d tried to tell herself that she didn’t think about Dee much, not anymore.  She certainly hadn’t talked about her in months.  When she first moved back to Boston, that was mostly a practical thing—it wasn’t worth bringing up Dee in conversation unless you wanted to see Mulder get depressed, which wasn’t something Melissa had any interest in—although some of it was for herself too, she had to admit.  Seeing her now, she didn’t know what to say.

“What did you do to yourself?” was what came out of her mouth.

Dee rolled her eyes.  “I grew up,” she said, and it honestly made Melissa want to laugh more than anything, that snotty tone that she somehow couldn’t mind, because it was so familiar. 

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I came to visit,” Dee said, and then Melissa noticed the bag next to her, perched tentatively on the edge of the step as if it weren’t sure that it wanted to be in this environment.  “Can I stay?” Dee asked, and her voice was tentative too, in a way that acknowledged, maybe, that Melissa didn’t have to say yes.

She did say yes.  “Yeah, come on up, Dee,” she said, unlocking the door, and they started up the stairs.  They’d done this so many times, back when they lived together (was it really just a year ago?), and it felt oddly like they were still friends.

“Nobody calls me Dee now,” Dee said, as they walked.

“Oh?” Melissa said.  “What do they call you?”  Certainly they’d all called Dee plenty of things among themselves, especially right after she left.  Dee, that traitor, that sell-out, that selfish bitch.

“Just Diana,” Dee said.  “That’s my name, after all.”

“Well,” Melissa said, “I can call you that if you want, Diana.”  She drew out the syllables, emphasizing the word.  It sounded weird, not right.

“No, it’s all right,” Dee said.  “I was just thinking about it.  Nobody calls me Dee except you guys.”  _Calls_ , she said, like they did it every day.  Like the three of them were still living here together, Starchild in the room next to the kitchen and Melissa in the one with the fire escape and Dee in the corner one, staying up until all hours smoking and listening to music and baring their souls, telling secrets they’d never told.  “It looks the same,” she added when Melissa opened the door, letting her back across the threshold.

“Yeah, what did you expect?” Melissa said.  “Were we supposed to paint the place black because you moved out?”  She didn’t like the way her voice sounded, hard and antagonistic; she didn’t want to be this way, especially not with Dee.  But Dee just looked at her for a moment and then laughed, her same old laugh, and then followed Melissa into her room.  She could see Dee looking around there too, taking things in.  “You still have it up,” she said, sitting down on Melissa’s bed (without asking, of course) and touching the edge of the photograph.  It was the three of them, smiling, sitting on a wall with their signs before a march last year.  Frohike had taken it.  He’d called them seditious sirens.

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  She didn’t know what else to say.  Dee smiled.  Melissa wondered if she still had the picture too.

“Do you guys have someone new living here?” Dee asked.

She wanted to snap at Dee, say that of course they did, that they weren’t just going to leave the third bedroom empty forever in loving memory of Diana “Dee” Elinor Fowley, Our Traitorous Former Friend.  The thing was, though, in a way they had.  Shannon lived there now, sure, and paid a third of the rent, and did substantially more of the cooking than Dee had ever done (Dee could make toast, that was all), and yet it wasn’t anything like it had been.  They were three roommates now, not three best friends.  Even with Melissa and Starchild, it wasn’t quite the same. 

She wouldn’t tell Dee all that.  “Yeah,” she said.  “Shannon.  She’s cool.”

“And Starchild’s still here?” Dee asked.  Melissa nodded.  “Can we…should we tell her I’m here?”

“She’s not here right now,” Melissa said.  “She’s at the guys’, I think.”

“Really?” Dee said.  “That’s on again?”

“For about three weeks now,” Melissa said.  Starchild’s thing with Byers was, to say the least, tumultuous; it was hard to keep track of it all, but, to hear Starchild tell it, the main issue stemmed from Byers’s refusal to understand that she wanted to live her belief in Free Love, not just talk about it.  They had been on and off so many times that Melissa could barely keep track of it any more, and by now no one seemed particularly phased by it. 

“Long time for them,” Dee said, and then she looked at Melissa with that smile of hers, and Melissa couldn’t help smiling back, and then they were both laughing, without warning.  Laughing easily, sharing the joke, floating on their history. 

“Hey,” Melissa said when they stopped laughing, “I missed you.”  It felt better, once she’d gotten it out.

“I missed you too,” Dee said. 

“I should have called,” Melissa said.  She’d thought about it, thought about it a lot.  But then she’d never known what she would say if she called, if she would yell at Dee for leaving or just catch up, tell her they were fine without her or beg her to come back.  And of course, there was the way they all talked about Dee, which made even wanting to call her seem almost like a sin.  Even thinking about that made her feel stupid, though.  She’d done all this—dropped out of college even—because she wasn’t going to be someone who just did what everyone else did.  She was going to be someone who made her own choices.  She should have called.

“What, you call?” Dee asked, laughing again, and Melissa laughed too, because she had a point.  She hardly ever called anyone, even when their chronically out of service phone was actually working.

“I could have, though,” she said.  “I should have.”

Dee shrugged.  “I could have called you too,” she said.  “So we’re even.  Anyway, I’m here now.”  She stretched out on the bed.

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  “How long are you going to stay?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Dee said.  “We’ll see.”

“Are you still working for Senator—?”  Melissa paused, momentarily forgetting the man’s actual name.  Senator Scuzzbag, they all called him among themselves.  That was what had shocked her the most, when it came to Dee.  Not that she’d left, or even that she’d left so suddenly, but that she’d left to work for a man who was the polar opposite of everything she’d once claimed to stand for.  She’d sent them a message loud and clear: _I’m not one of you anymore_.

Dee didn’t seem to notice the pause.  “We’ll see,” she said again, and then, probably realizing that didn’t clarify much of anything, she said, “Well, I am, for now.  But I might move back here.”

“Here?” Melissa asked.  “With us?”  The idea was more exciting than it had a right to be.

“Well, New York, anyway,” said Dee.  “I just…I can’t stand being so close to my parents.  You know.” 

Melissa certainly did know.  She hadn’t been in her own parents’ presence for longer than a week since last year, and it was more than enough.  They didn’t see eye to eye, not these days, and she and her dad got into arguments, and it always made her mom cry, which she didn’t want.  She just wanted to be with people who understood her.  She wanted Dee to be one of those people, still.  “You can stay with us for now, at least,” she said.  “I mean, it’s cool with me, anyway.  And I’m sure it’ll be cool with Starchild and Shannon.”

“Great,” Dee said.  Her smile again.  It all seemed worth it.  “How is everyone, anyway?  What are you up to?”

“Still fighting the good fight,” Melissa said.  “We went to some stuff for Angry Arts Week.  It was far out.  And I’m still waitressing, and Starchild’s still working at Venus.  You know, we’re all doing the same kind of thing.”

Dee was rummaging in her bag.  She pulled out a lipstick and a compact, with _DEF_ in gold on the back, popped the compact open, and started fixing her lipstick in the mirror.  Melissa was wondering about this sudden urge to apply makeup when Dee spoke, her voice neutral, her eyes still fixed on the compact mirror.  “And Fox?”

Melissa wondered how much she should say.  She didn’t think she should tell the whole story, didn’t think it would help anyone involved if she told Dee how upset Mulder had been, how you couldn’t have a conversation or eat a meal or smoke a joint or go to a march with him at first without him finding some way to bring up her name, and then probably crying.  How eventually they’d all started avoiding the subject out of sheer self-preservation.  Maybe it would do some good if she said it, would make Dee see how she couldn’t just waltz off and assume everyone would be fine, but she didn’t think it would be right.  Besides, he was fine now.  Happy.  Weirdly happy, in fact, with Dana, and Melissa would never have picked them out for one another but now she secretly kind of wanted them to get married and have a million kids, not that she would say that out loud, because it made her sound like a sap.

“He’s fine,” she said, eventually.  “He’s actually…he’s going out with my younger sister.  Dana.  I think you met her once?”

Dee made a noncommittal noise and went over her lipstick again.  “Oh,” she eventually said.  She didn’t say anything else, and Melissa decided to let the matter drop, especially since the door to the apartment banged at that moment.  She went to the door of her room; there was Starchild, looking mildly pissed off.

“Hey,” Melissa said.  “You’re back early.”

“Yeah,” Starchild said.  “I dumped Byers.  He was being a square again.”

“Oh,” Melissa said.  “You doing all right?”

“Yeah,” said Starchild.  “I’m going to make brownies.  You want some?”

“Sure,” Melissa said.  “Just…before we do that.  Dee’s here.”  And Dee walked out of the room, standing in the doorway behind Melissa.  Honestly, Melissa wasn’t sure how Starchild was going to take this.  The three of them had been so close, but since Dee had left, Starchild had barely ever mentioned her.  Melissa had wanted her to, sometimes.  She would have felt less alone then.

Starchild cocked her head, looking at Dee.  “Oh,” she said.  “Hey.  You got tired of kissing up to the man?”

“I don’t kiss up to anyone,” Dee said.  That haughty look she sometimes got.

“Sure,” Starchild said.  “Well, anyway.  If you’re not going to be a jerk anymore, glad you’re back.”  And she hugged Dee, quickly.  “You look dumb as hell in that dress, though.  Go put something normal on and then we’re making brownies.”

“I don’t—”

“You can borrow from me,” Melissa put in quickly.  They’d all swapped things, when the three of them lived together.  “Meet you in the kitchen.”

Dee appeared in the kitchen in a dress which came down to Melissa’s ankles, but on her only to mid-calf.  “And you said _my_ dress looked dumb as hell.”

“Yeah, well, get shorter,” Melissa said, scooting aside to make room for her on the table.  “So, Starchild, why exactly did you guys break up this time?”

Starchild shrugged.  “Same old.”

Melissa remembered so many nights: ones like the way this one turned out to be.  The three of them sprawled on the living room floor, playing records, pleasantly stoned, talking, talking, talking.  Right up until the end, it was always like that.  One night in particular she remembered: a night kind of like this one, because Starchild had just dumped Byers.  “He cannot expect me to only sleep with one man for the rest of my life,” she’d kept saying over and over.  “That is ridiculous.  He doesn’t own my body.”

“You tell him,” Dee had said.

“He’s not even so amazing,” Starchild said.  “Like, I’ve been with better guys, you know?  Way better guys…”  She stared at the ceiling in concentration.  “There was this guy, when I was in college?  His name was Elmer…”

“Elmer?” Melissa said, cracking up.  At that moment, it seemed like the funniest name in the world.

“Shut up, you,” Starchild said amiably.  “I know it’s not, whatever, the greatest name.  But he was an amazing lay.  I didn’t know I had all those places in my body, right?  All those…those…”  She fumbled for the word.  Melissa and Dee watched her soberly.  “Erogenous zones.”  She nodded, blew out a puff of smoke.  “He was the best I ever had.  Poor Elmer.”

“Why was he poor?” Dee asked.

“You think everyone’s poor,” Melissa said.  “Just because your dad owns all those boats…”

“ _I_ didn’t say he was poor, _Starchild_ said he was poor,” said Dee.  “And they’re ships.”

“ _I_ know about ships,” said Melissa.  “Don’t think you can tell me about ships, because I know about them.”

“I said poor Elmer,” Starchild said, “because I think he’s dead now.  In Vietnam.”  She raised the joint as if in a toast.  “Fuck the war.”

“Fuck the war,” Melissa and Dee said, solemnly, nodding, and then Starchild passed the joint to Melissa and sat back against the couch.

“How about you guys?” she asked.  “Who was your best?”

“I think Fox is my best,” Dee said.  She was lying back on the floor, her dark hair loose around her pale face.  Melissa watched her while she smoked.  “He’s really…really sweet, you know?  I didn’t think I’d like it so sweet.  But I do, when it’s him.”  Her smile, bright and luminous.  “You know, I think I love him.”

Melissa exhaled.  “Lucky.”  She passed the joint to Dee, their fingers brushing. 

“How about you?” Dee asked.  They were both looking at her now.

“Not like I have much choice, is there?” Melissa said.  “I’ve only been with the one guy.”

“That’s right,” said Starchild.  “What’s his name.”

“Jerry,” said Melissa.  “And it was just that one time, anyway.”  It had been right after she’d dropped out of school, when her parents were still calling every day, begging her to change her mind, telling her that everything she was doing was wrong, the way she lived, the way she thought.  She hadn’t even known Jerry that well.  She’d just wanted to prove to herself that she could.  “Give me that,” she said to Dee, reaching for the joint.

Dee handed it back.  “Don’t feel bad,” she said, quietly.  She brushed Melissa’s hair back from her face.  “Don’t feel bad.”

“I don’t,” Melissa said.  She bumped Dee with her hip, bumped Starchild too for good measure.  “Not now.”  She smoked for a few moments in silence.  “Who cares about guys anyway?  Fuck guys.”

“Amen to that,” Starchild said, taking the joint back.  “We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Bigger fish,” Dee repeated, snorting. 

“I mean it,” Starchild said.  “Look at us.  I was just going to be bookkeeping in Cleveland, or something.  Like my mom.  And Melissa, you were going to be a nun or something.”

“I was not,” Melissa said.  “I’d be a real bad nun.”

“And Dee,” Starchild went on, “you were going to wear pearls and ride horses.  And serve those…those petit fours.”

Dee laughed again.  “Fuck petit fours.”

“But look at us,” Starchild said.  “Look at what we’re doing.  We’re all here, and we’re doing this.  By ourselves.  And we’re part of something bigger.  We’re making a difference, we’re really making a difference.  We’re not just…we’re not going to do all those things we’re supposed to be doing, and we’re not going to let them destroy the world, and…and…fuck the war and fuck guys and fuck petit fours!” 

Her eyes looked big and wet, and watching her, Melissa felt herself starting to tear up too.  She reached out to them both, one arm wrapped around Starchild’s waist, the other gripping Dee’s hand.  “I love you both,” she said.  “You’re my best friends…I just…I love you both.”

“Me too,” Dee said, squeezing her hand, reaching for Starchild’s.  “Always will.”

“Yeah,” Starchild said.  “Yeah.”  Then they were all just a tangle of arms, and then Starchild shouted, “Oh, shit, shit, shit!” and dropped the joint and started slapping at the sleeve of her shirt, which was starting to smoke, and they all laughed hysterically for the rest of the night.

And here they were now, back in those same spots on the living room floor; Starchild had put on _A Song Will Rise_ , laid out her brownies on a plate.  “So,” she said, taking a bite of one, “the guys said they’d come over on Saturday night.  We should get some food.”  Starchild and Byers’s frequent breakups had little effect on the social life of the group as a whole.  “How about you, Dee?  You in for this?”

“Yeah,” Dee said, taking a brownie too.  “I was telling Melissa.  I’m thinking about coming back.”

“Yeah?” Starchild said.  She took another bite, didn’t say anything more. 

Melissa knew it wasn’t the same.  But she wanted it to be, thought maybe it could be again.  As the night wore on, as they laughed and talked, she felt that possibility coming closer, hovering somewhere in the air in front of her, challenging her to reach out and grab.

“You can stay in my room,” she told Dee, when they were heading to bed at last.  “You won’t fit on the couch.”

Dee had brought pajamas, baby doll things that had a bow and little yellow checks, that showed an almost obscene amount of leg.  “You look like a narc,” Melissa told her.

“Yeah,” Dee said, balancing with one foot on the bed and giggling, “yeah, I want to report a tip.  I ate a brownie tonight and I think there was something weird in it.”  She stumbled, sitting down on the bed with a thump.  “Can I turn off the light?”

“Sure,” Melissa said, and Dee turned it off, slipping into the bed beside her.  She was turned toward the wall; she couldn’t see Dee’s face.  “I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Dee said, “me too, Melissa.”   Their legs were tangled up.  There wasn’t any space.

 

Dana was the first person to show up on Saturday night, along with her roommate Monica.  Even though they were younger, still living in a dorm, and, especially in Dana’s case, significantly less with it than everyone else (Melissa loved her sister, but it was true), they came around pretty regularly by this point.  Dana was Melissa’s sister and Mulder’s girlfriend, so she was automatically included in a lot of things, and then Monica was her best friend and pretty cool in her own right.  They were usually the first to arrive, whatever the occasion was, because Dana still followed their mother’s two cardinal rules for being a gracious party guest: be on time and bring something sweet.  “We made cookies,” Dana said, showing the platter.  “Well, Monica mostly did.  But I helped out.”

Melissa took one and took a bite.  “They’re good,” she said.  “Thanks.  You can put them on the table.  How’s everything going?” she asked, as Dana set the cookies down.

“It’s good!” Dana said.  “We just got back.”  Dana had been home for Christmas break until earlier this week; Melissa had come back to the city earlier, only at her parents’ house for a few days.  “And we got our new classes.  I’m in chemistry lab.”

“And our RA left to get married,” said Monica.  “So we’ve got this new RA who’s a total freak.”

“Oh yeah,” Dana said, laughing.  “She was clearly stoned when we met her.  I think it’s going to be really interesting.” 

Melissa laughed too.  “And I’m the one Mom and Dad are worried about.”  Dee came into the room, then; she was wearing jeans and a shirt of Melissa’s, a loose one that looked good on her.  “Hey, do you remember Dee?  I think you guys met once.  She used to live with me and Starchild.  Dee, do you remember my sister Dana?”

Dee looked at Dana appraisingly.  “It’s nice to see you again,” she finally said, holding out her hand.

“You too,” Dana said, taking it.  “And this is my roommate, Monica.  Are you still living in the city?”

“Yes,” said Dee.  “Yes, I am,” and Dana nodded, and Melissa watched the whole exchange.  She hadn’t heard Dee be that definite about it yet.  She wondered if she should say something to Dana—something about Dee and Mulder.  It seemed weird that Dee knew and Dana didn’t.  But then she might be making too much of a thing out of it.  She doubted Dana thought that Mulder had never been with anyone else.  For all she knew, Dana did know about Dee already.  Starchild and Shannon appeared from the kitchen then, and everyone started talking, and Melissa let it drop.

Langley, Byers, and Frohike were the next to show up.  They must have heard about Dee somehow—presumably through Starchild—because they didn’t look surprised when they saw her standing there, leaning against the table as she chatted with Shannon.  Not that they were exactly warm.  They didn’t include her in their hellos, but when they went to sit down, they kept shooting her looks and muttering among themselves.  Melissa caught snatches: “…back for real?...” and “…sold us out…” and “…not to mention Mulder…” 

Melissa went over to Dee then, squeezed her shoulders, maybe a little pointedly.  “Hey,” she said softly.  “You’re definitely coming back, then?”

“I think so,” Dee said.  “Yeah.”  And she smiled at Melissa, bright eyed, and Melissa hugged her again, a full hug this time. 

She heard the door opening and closing, heard Dana’s voice, happy, teasing.  “About time you got here.” 

“We can’t all be as punctual as you are.”  Mulder’s voice was light too, and when Melissa looked over towards the door he was leaning down to kiss Dana, and she was stretching up into it, her arms around his neck.  When they broke apart, he brushed a strand of hair back from her face.  “Missed you,” he said.  “Where do they get off, giving you a whole month of Christmas vacation?”

“Very inconsiderate of them,” Dana said.  She kissed him again, quickly.  Being in a room with the two of them was always a weird experience: it seemed like you weren’t there at all, really, as far as they were concerned.  That had to be a heady thing, Melissa thought.  “Come on and sit down.  Did you get my last letter?”

“Yeah, I just got it yesterday,” Mulder said.  “I think there’s a lot to what you’re saying, about having those face-to-face conversations.  I was wondering if you thought about—”  And then he broke off, abruptly, his eyes on the spot where Melissa and Dee were standing.

Dee shrugged off Melissa’s arm, straightened her shoulders, smiled.  “Fox,” she said, quietly.  “Hi.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say.  Finally he got something out.  “Diana.”  He was still staring.  “What…what are you doing here?”

A self-deprecating look, a shrug.  “Came back, I guess.”  She walked towards him then.  “It’s really, really good to see you.” 

“You’re back?” he said.  “You’re… _back_ back?”

She nodded.  “I think so,” she said.  “I thought I’d be better off back in Boston, but, you know, you guys were right.  I need to be a part of this.”  She smiled at him again, and Melissa caught sight of Dana, watching the two with a confused look.

“Well, it’s…”  He broke off then, just looking at her.

“Yeah, I know,” Dee said.  “It’s weird.  Do you want to sit down and talk, though?  We could do with some catching up.”

“I…sure,” Mulder said.  He looked around then; Dana was still standing next to him, looking at them both.  “Dana, do you know Diana?” he asked.  “We were…”

“Yes, we’ve met,” Dee put in.  “Melissa introduced us, right?”

“That’s right,” Dana said.  The expression on her face didn’t say a lot, but Melissa had known her all her life, and she could read it.  She was trying to form a question, trying to put something into words, trying to figure out what was going on in front of her.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Dee said then, and then she was walking back towards the table, and Mulder was in her wake, and Dana was in his, still looking like she didn’t know quite where the conversation had gone.

Sometimes Dee could tie you in knots like that.  It came out in their discussions, back when she was still here: in the ways that she took things to places you never meant them to go.  It didn’t happen all the time, of course; in most ways, Dee was on the same page as the rest of them, wanting to get away from the old ways of doing things, wanting to make a difference in the world.  But on the last day, especially, things were different.  Melissa sat on Dee’s bed, watching her pack, and she’d never felt so confused, mad, helpless.  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she said.  “I can’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” Dee said.  “Because whether you do or not, it’s happening.  I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it.”

“I’m making a big deal out of it?” Melissa said.  “Dee, I—you’re my—”  _You’re my best friend_ , she was going to say, but Dee didn’t deserve to hear it.  “What happened to everything we talked about?” she said instead.  “I thought we were going to change things together.  The three of us.  And now you’re—you’re fucking selling out, Dee, that’s what you’re doing.  You’re tired of living like this and you want to go back to—to—to luncheons and fucking bridge parties and not taking a stand—”

“That is not true,” Dee snapped; she always got mad when anyone mentioned her upbringing, the different world she had to fall back on.  “I’m still taking a stand.  But what am I actually going to accomplish, just standing out in the rain with crappy cardboard signs and lying around getting high and just talking and talking?  You all think you’re being so important.  But you could get a lot more done if you actually worked within the system.  If you didn’t all act like you were so special…and so much better than everyone…”

“There’s working with people and then there’s what you’re doing,” Melissa said.  “That man is evil, Dee.  You know that.  We’ve all talked about it—”

Dee shook her head.  “See, this is what I mean,” she said.  “You can’t make things so black and white.”  She took another top out of her dresser, shook it out and looked at it.  “Do you want this?  I don’t think I’ll wear it—”

“No, I do not want your shirt, Dee,” Melissa snapped.  “You betray me and then you try to get me to take your shirts?”

“I’m not betraying you,” Dee said.  “This isn’t about that at all.  I have to do what’s right for me, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”  She sounded so cold.  “It would be nice if you understood that.”

“It would be nice if you understood me, Dee!” Melissa said.  “Can you understand why I’m upset about this?  Why I can’t agree with what you’re doing?”

“I mean, I do understand,” Dee said.  “But I just don’t think you’re right.  I’m not trying to leave on bad terms or anything.  We’ve had a lot of great times, and it would be a shame.”  _A lot of great times_ , Melissa thought.  Dismissing it all, just like that.  Maybe for Dee it had never meant so much, but she couldn’t fully believe that.  It had felt too real.  “You’re still one of my best friends, Melissa,” Dee said, and there they were, the words Melissa had thought about saying before.  “Even if you’re mad at me.”

She didn’t know how to answer.  She knew she couldn’t, but she almost wanted to take it all back.  “But I am,” she finally said.  There wasn’t more that meant anything, before Dee was in a cab on her way to the airport.  She thought it all over for weeks, for months.  If she should have said more.  If she was in the wrong after all.  How Dee had managed to make her feel so unstable in what she thought.  Even now, with Dee back, she didn’t know what to think.  She knew they should really talk, one of these days, figure out where they stood, but she was worried it would mix her all up again. 

She looked over towards the couch, now; Dee was sitting there, leaning in and talking to Mulder, and Dana was on the other side of them, watching, her arms crossed.  Again, Melissa thought she understood the expression on her sister’s face, but she thought she understood the one on Mulder’s too.  That confusion, that sense of something being pulled out from under you, so quickly you didn’t know where it had gone.

 

But she let it slide.  She liked it too much, having Dee back there with them.  Things felt the way they had before, in so many ways; Melissa spent more time with Starchild, even, than she had in months, the three of them sitting around talking like they always had.  And then there was Dee herself, of course.  She was still staying with them, there in Melissa’s room, until she figured things out, and they’d talk even more then, late at night, the words soft and blurred.  Sometimes Melissa would just lie there, after Dee had fallen asleep, taking it all in.  She wasn’t getting that much sleep herself these days, but it seemed worth it.  She had her best friend.

And Dee was her best friend.  But Dana was her sister.  And the next time they had people over, that fact brought itself up sharp against Melissa’s consciousness. 

There were a lot of people in the apartment; it was Shannon’s birthday, and she’d invited a bunch of friends they didn’t normally see.  Dana was one of the first people there, as usual, and at first things were fine: she and Monica were sitting on the couch, talking with Langley and Frohike.  At the table, Melissa felt Dee beside her, her eyes trained on the door.  And when it opened to reveal Mulder, she strode forward, taking his arm almost as soon as he was in the room.  “Hey there, stranger,” she said; her voice was soft, but Melissa picked it up.  “It’s been a while.  Why didn’t you call after we had lunch?”

“I didn’t know if you were still here,” Mulder said.

“You could have come by,” Dee said.  “I wouldn’t have minded seeing you in person, you know.”  She laughed.  “Well, you’re here now, anyway.  Come and sit down.  I really want to talk to you.”  And she led him into the living room, taking a seat on the floor and patting the spot next to her.

On the couch, Dana looked up.  “Hi,” she said, scooting herself closer to Monica.  “Come sit with us.”

He walked towards her, kissing her cheek quickly, but then he glanced back towards Dee, sitting on the floor, still looking at him.  “Hey,” he said.  “I’ll come sit in a minute.  Diana just wanted to talk about something.”

“Well,” Dana said, “we can all talk.  I mean we can talk together…”

“Yeah,” Mulder said.  “Yeah, that sounds great.  It would be great if we all…”

“Come on, Fox,” Dee called to him, from her spot on the floor, and Melissa walked closer, instinctively.

She saw him smile at Dana, looking almost sheepish.  “Just give me a couple of minutes,” he said, and then he sat down on the floor, next to Dee. 

Melissa watched.  Watched their heads close together.  Watched Dee laughing.  Watched Dana watching them.  Watched Dee with her hand on Mulder’s arm.  Watched Dana looking at her wristwatch.  Watched the way Mulder leaned in as he said something.  Watched Dana stand up, say, “I’m going to get some water,” and walk out of the room, a little too quickly. 

Melissa hesitated for a moment.  She didn’t believe that about the water, not for a single minute, and she thought Dana might need her right now.  On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she should leave the room herself, not when Dee and Mulder were sitting closer and closer together like that and she kept punctuating her words with little touches.  When Dana didn’t come back after a couple of minutes, though, she made her decision.  She shot Monica a look, hoping she could convey _Throw yourself bodily between them if you have to_ with only her face, and set off in search of her sister.

She checked the bathroom first—the door was cracked open—only to find Starchild and Byers leaning up against the toilet, doing something she would rather not have seen.  “Seriously?” she said.  What a time for them to be on again.

“There are people in my room!” Starchild yelled back, and Melissa slammed the bathroom door and went to look elsewhere. 

There were no people in her own room, at least—no one but Dana, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at her hands.  Melissa took a seat next to her.  “Hey,” she said.  “Are you okay?”

“I…no,” Dana said quietly.  Melissa put an arm around her, trying to figure out what she should say, but Dana forestalled her, after a few more seconds.  “I thought…I thought he really liked me.”

“Dana, he does,” Melissa said.  “That’s obvious to anyone with half a brain.  Last summer, when he’d only met you like three times?  He wouldn’t shut up about you.” 

She’d thought it might lift her sister’s spirits, but Dana just shook her head.  “Well, that was then, maybe,” she said.  “I guess I was the best option he had, then.  But it’s obvious now that he’d rather be spending time with Diana.”  She looked up at Melissa.  “They used to go out?”

“Yeah,” Melissa said, as gently as she could.  “Before you guys met, though.  She moved away before that.”

“Were they…was it…serious?”

“Pretty serious,” Melissa said.  She remembered Dee, lying on the floor while they all talked.  _I think I love him._   She felt like screaming.  “Look, Dana, why do you want to hear all this?”

“I just want to know,” Dana said.  “I want to understand, that’s all…I didn’t think he…I thought he…”  She didn’t seem able to finish a thought, in a way that was very unlike Dana, and Melissa didn’t know what would do any good.  She would have gone out there and yelled at Mulder—what did he think he was doing, how could he treat Dana like this—or even at Dee—what did she think she was doing, if you left someone you had to let them move on—but she didn’t see that helping.  She just kept her arm around her sister, squeezing her shoulders gently.  “Missy,” Dana said, after a moment or two.  “Do you think…um…I mean, he said it was okay, but…”  She was biting at her lip.  “I didn’t…don’t…want to have sex.  Not yet.  Do you think that’s why?”

“Oh,” Melissa said.  “Oh, Dana,” and she hugged her sister full on; she thought she needed it, right then.  “If that is why,” she told her, “then he does not deserve you.”

“Maybe it’s stupid,” Dana said, her voice sounding thick, “to worry about that.  But, I mean, I know it wouldn’t be…for him, I mean…he’s already…”

“But if you don’t want to,” Melissa said, “that’s what matters.”  She thought about her own first time, the way she’d told herself she could, how she’d only thought about proving she wasn’t the daughter her parents had imagined.  “Trust me, Dana,” she said, “it’s not any good if you’re not really into it.”

Dana gave her a shaky smile.  “Thanks.”

“Try not to worry about this too much.  Give it time.”

“You’re the one telling me that?”

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  “Not forever, obviously.  But like I said, I know he likes you a lot.  Dee’s just…well, she’s my friend, but she’s…she doesn’t always think about other people.  I can see where…”  She didn’t know quite what she wanted to say.  “Look, let me try to handle this,” was what she finally came out with.  “Like I said, she’s my friend.  I’ll talk to her.  Get her to drop this.” 

“You think that’ll work?” Dana asked. 

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  “I do.”

She wasn’t sure, though.  Especially not when they went back into the living room and saw that Mulder and Dee hadn’t moved from where they’d left them.  Monica caught her eye with a worried look, and Dana stiffened next to her.  “I’m really tired,” she announced.  “Monica, do you want to go?”  Monica agreed quickly, and the two of them left.  Melissa was glad when other people began to trickle out, especially when Mulder left too, about half an hour later.  She was tired of all this.  She left the empty plates on the table—they’d clean up in the morning—and went back into her bedroom.

Dee was already there, sitting on the bed; she shot Melissa a smile as she came into the room.  She looked—well, radiant, that was the only word for it, and the wrongness of it hit Melissa suddenly.  She thought about Dana, how she’d looked earlier tonight sitting in the same place.

“So what was that all about?” Melissa asked.  She was trying to keep her voice down, because she knew that not everyone had gone home yet—she heard Starchild and Byers, laughing in the kitchen—but there was a part of her that just wanted to start yelling.

Dee shrugged.  “What was what all about?”  She was squinting into her compact.

“ _That_ ,” Melissa said.  “Do not play dumb, Dee.  Not with me.  You were absolutely flirting with him.  More than flirting.  You were—”

“And if I was?” Dee said.  “I’ve never pretended I didn’t like him anymore.  I would have stayed together, but he said we couldn’t—”

“Because you were moving to Boston to work for Senator Scuzzbag,” said Melissa.  “And that’s not the point.  I can’t believe you can’t see that’s not the point.  He is dating my sister—”

“Well, then why are you so worried about me?”  That smirk; she didn’t mean a word of what she was saying, didn’t believe her own words. 

“You know you’re—” Melissa started, and then she stopped, not knowing what she wanted to say.  That Dana was her younger sister and she wouldn’t let anyone mess with her?  That Dee used to be her best friend, uncomplicated, and she just wanted that again? 

“I’m what?” Dee asked, her voice still calm.

“It’s not all about you,” Melissa said.  “They have something good.  And maybe you don’t believe in things like you used to—”

“Oh, don’t act like this is all some big referendum on my beliefs.  You just don’t want your sister to be all sad.”  She was turning back to her compact, but Melissa snatched it away, because she wanted Dee to look at her, damnit. 

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asked.  “Forgive me for caring about people.  For not always putting myself first.”  She tried to steady her voice, not wanting Dee to think she was the one in control here.  “She’s my little sister, Dee.  That matters to me.”

“Well, not that much,” Dee said.  “She didn’t know about us, did she?  Me and Fox.  So why didn’t you tell her, if you care so much?”

“What would have been the point of that?  You skipped out on him—on all of us.  You broke his heart.  It wasn’t like he wanted to see you again.”

“Except that he clearly does,” Dee said, and there wasn’t any way Melissa could argue with that, and she could have hated them both in that moment.  “So maybe, if we’re both happy with that, you shouldn’t be worrying so much about your sister.  Things work themselves out, that’s all.”  And while Melissa was scrambling for words, because this wasn’t just one of those things that worked themselves out, Dee could not make it sound like it was that easy, like it was somehow right, she added, “Why don’t you just go with the flow on this?  You were so excited about having me back, and all of a sudden you’re getting on my case again.  Are you going to be like this—giving me moral lectures all the time?  Because I can get those plenty of places.  Or is it going to be like it used to?”

Melissa wanted that—she wanted that so badly—but she knew that she couldn’t just say yes.  “That depends,” she said.  “Are you going to drop this, or are you going to keep doing it?  Because it’s not going to end well for anyone if you do, Dee.  Besides, you’re making yourself look really uncool, honestly.”  Dee’s eyes narrowed at that.  “I mean, you’re not exactly being subtle about this whole making a move thing.  You were practically on top of him earlier, and if that’s how you want to act—” 

“Why the fuck is that any of your business?”  Dee didn’t sound so calm now, and Melissa felt a flush of satisfaction at that.

“Because you’re coming off like a jerk!” Melissa said.  “Don’t pretend that this is innocent.  The way the two of you were touching…well, you looked a lot more than friendly, that’s for sure.”  She could see it now, just as if it were still happening.

  Dee looked as if she were going to snap back, and then she stopped, almost sneering.  “You’re talking like you’re jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous?” Melissa asked.  She tried to laugh, found it wouldn’t come.  “He’s not _my_ boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say that’s who you were jealous of,” Dee said.  She leaned in then, close, so close.  “Are you jealous that I didn’t come back just for you, Melissa?  That there’s more to my life than you and me and Starchild being friends forever?  That I’m about to get laid again and you’ve never had anyone but me sleep in your bed?”

“That’s not how it is!” Melissa said.  “That’s not how it is!”  But her breath wouldn’t come.  She tried hard, opened her mouth to say something more but somehow it didn’t happen.  Dee was smirking at her and her face was just inches away.

Melissa thought about it afterwards (over and over again), but she was still never quite sure who closed the gap first, exactly how it happened that they were kissing, the two of them, fierce and hard.  She had never imagined this, never even come close.  Maybe she had never let herself.  But if she had, maybe she would have thought of it happening…more naturally, somehow.  The two of them lying together on the floor one night, smoking and talking, and looking at each other and knowing what had to happen and leaning in.  Something sweet.

This wasn’t sweet.  Dee had her hands tight in Melissa’s hair, almost pulling, and Melissa grabbed back at hers, stiff with spray, not loose like she used to wear it.  “Your stupid hair,” she muttered, in between kisses. 

“You fucking love it,” Dee hissed back, and she was pulling now, but Melissa didn’t have a retort to that, she did love it, it was Dee’s hair.  And when they next surfaced for air Dee glanced over at the door, which was mostly closed, and kicked it so that they heard the latch click, and then she kissed Melissa again.  She started that one, anyway.  That Melissa knew.

But still it was all so hard to grasp.  She didn’t know if she pulled Dee down or if Dee pushed her or if it was a little bit of both, the two of them lying back on the bed, Dee’s legs wrapped around her.  Her shirt off and Dee’s hands on her; she wasn’t wearing a bra, which had never seemed so practical.  Fumbling at Dee’s dress—“Goddamn zippers”—before she had it off all the way, Dee there in just her underwear.  She’d seen that before, when they lived together.  This was so very different.  Her own skirt now, her underwear.  Dee’s underwear.  She was beginning to think she really got what people meant when they talked about transcendence, about higher planes.  “You really want to?” she asked, and Dee kissed her again, somehow harder and softer all at once, and then there they were.  She didn’t have any idea what she was doing and it didn’t seem to matter at all.  Not here, not now.  Not when it was the two of them.  Dee and her.  Her and Dee.  Bodies pressed together.  Kisses everywhere.  And she meant everywhere.

So many things she’d never felt.

And then the two of them, afterwards, lying there.  They didn’t have to talk, Melissa thought.  That was the best part about them: that they could talk and talk but that they didn’t have to.  She just kissed Dee again, said “Hey” sleepily.

“Hey,” Dee said back, her fingers tangled in Melissa’s hair.  They were quiet then, lying side by side on Melissa’s bed, Dee’s foot still touching hers as she drifted off.  It would all be different now, she realized dimly.  She didn’t know exactly how, no, and it wouldn’t be easy.  But she felt ready.

Melissa was cold when she woke up, still undressed, only half-covered by the sheet.  She heard voices in the kitchen—Dee and Starchild—and she hurried to get out of bed, wrapping herself in her robe and going to join them. 

“—I think it’ll be for the best, after all,” Dee was saying.  “Not that this hasn’t been great.  But this isn’t my life anymore, you know?”  Melissa took in the sight.  Dee fully dressed.  That blue dress she’d worn on the first day.  Her neat bag on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Yeah,” Starchild said.  “I think you’ve made that pretty clear.”  Her tone was flat.  “Can you just let me drink my tea in peace?”

Dee’s eye fell on Melissa then, and for a moment Melissa could almost hope that she was wrong, that this wasn’t what it very much looked like.  Dee’s smile, when it came, wasn’t the cocksure one she usually had, wasn’t the honest one that Melissa had liked to think she was privileged to see.  It was something else, unstable and brittle, masking something that could be regret and could be fear and could be an empty nothing.  “Morning, Melissa,” she said.  “We’ve just been talking.  I’m taking the bus back to Boston today.  I think that’ll be the right choice for everyone, in the end.” 

She wasn’t usually one to keep how she felt to herself, and yet, in this moment, it seemed like she had nothing to say.  “Oh,” she managed.  “Right now?”

Dee nodded.  “I’m heading out now, anyway,” she said.  “I just wanted to wait for you to wake up.  To say goodbye.”  She reached out for a hug.  It all seemed like the cruelest thing she could have done.  Melissa hugged her anyway.  She wondered if she had been the one to make this happen.  Dee didn’t tell them to keep in touch, didn’t use any of those platitudes.  She just held on to Melissa for a long minute and then let go.  “Bye,” she said, and she picked up her suitcase and let herself out.  Melissa had seen her go in and out of the apartment door so many times; it was hard to believe it was permanent. 

She sat in the vacated chair and drew her legs up against her body.  She bit hard at her lip.  “I just…” she said.  “She just…”  What could she say?  Starchild didn’t know.

Starchild looked up from her mug.  “You guys banged, didn’t you?”

“I…what?” Melissa said.  “I…what…how did you…”

“You weren’t that quiet,” Starchild said.  Great, just when she thought this couldn’t get any worse.  “Besides, I’ve always seen how you were with her.”

“How?” Melissa asked.  “I didn’t even think…until last night…”  It all felt beyond surreal. 

“I don’t know,” said Starchild.  “I just did.  I’m your friend too, you know.”  Melissa guessed she was.  A better friend than Dee.  She wished that meant more to her.  Starchild reached out and patted her hand.  “It’s okay.  Nobody else knows, if you’re worried about that.  Everybody else went home.”

“Great,” Melissa said, hollowly.

“And you know, we all bang lousy people,” Starchild said. 

She didn’t know how to talk about this.  “You don’t think I’m sick?” she asked quietly.

“Nah,” Starchild said.  “Well, not because of this, anyway.”  She grinned at Melissa, and Melissa would probably have grinned back, any other time, but she couldn’t manage it now.  Her face turned serious, though, after a moment.  “Hey,” she said.  “I know this must…it must really hurt.  Dee’s always…it’s all about Dee with her, you know?  And that’s shitty.”  Maybe Starchild was right, but she couldn’t say it.  “But you’ve got me, anyway,” Starchild said, and she leaned over and hugged Melissa, not a long hug, but just enough.  “You want some tea or anything?  Or we could smoke?”

“Tea, I guess,” Melissa said.  “I think I’ll just cry if I smoke.”

“Could be good for you,” Starchild said.  “But tea first, anyway.”  She went to get a mug for Melissa, and Melissa sat there at the kitchen table, leaning her head on her arms.

 

“Chick waiting for you by the back, Melissa,” one of the busboys said on Sunday morning when she went to take her break, and she was almost ashamed of how fast she ran out the door, wanting it to be Dee.

It wasn’t, of course.  It was Dana.  “Hi,” she said.  “I just came from church.”

“Oh,” Melissa said.  She knew Dana didn’t go all the time now; if she’d been, it probably meant something.  Her downcast face suggested the same.  “Did it help?”

“Not really.”

“You want a cigarette?” Melissa asked.

“Yeah,” Dana said, and they smoked in silence for a few minutes.  “We had a fight.”

“You and Mulder?” Melissa asked, and Dana nodded.  “Because of the thing with Dee?”

Dana nodded again.  “He says he wasn’t trying to hurt me.  But then he said…well, he said she’s still someone who was important to him, and there’s nothing between them now.  And I said that obviously wasn’t how she was looking at it, and he said I was just being jealous, and…I don’t know.  I don’t know where we are now.  We didn’t break up.  Nothing like that.  But I don’t know where we are.”

Her heart ached, for her sister, for herself.  “She left,” she said.  “Went back to Boston.  The morning after the party.”  She tried not to sound sad, because for Dana, maybe, this was a good thing, and she didn’t want Dana to guess what it all meant.

“Oh,” Dana said.  “I didn’t know.”  Which meant that Mulder didn’t know either, if Melissa had to guess.  She couldn’t feel surprised.

“Does that change things?” Melissa asked.  “For you?”

Dana dragged on her cigarette.  “I don’t know,” she said quietly.  Melissa nodded, and they smoked together, not talking, until her break was over.

 

Starchild dragged her over to hang out at the guys’ the next week, because she said Melissa should be doing more than sitting around looking sad and burning incense.  Maybe she was right.  Melissa wasn’t sure that the outing achieved whatever Starchild had in mind, though, because she couldn’t really manage the energy to talk to anyone.  She was sitting by the window, pretending to be enjoying the amazing view of a brick wall, when she heard someone walking up beside her.  She turned.  Mulder.

She knew she should be mad at him, for Dana’s sake if nothing else.  A part of her was.  A part of her couldn’t be.  She nodded at him, made space where she was perched on the radiator.  He took a seat.  “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

More silence.  “She just…went back?” he finally asked.

She couldn’t explain what had happened, not to him.  Maybe it didn’t matter.  “She just went back,” she said.  Another pause.  “She didn’t tell you herself?”

“No.”  Melissa nodded.  “I know I was an idiot,” he said.  “Thinking anything would be different.  And look, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to.  I fucked up with Dana, and you don’t have to be cool with that.”

She shrugged.  “Maybe tell Dana that.”

“I did,” he said.  “We talked.  It’s not…well, I fucked up.  But we talked.”

“That’s something,” Melissa said.  She looked down at her feet.  “I thought it would be different too,” she said.  “I can see why you would.”

Mulder nodded.  “She’s always been…”  He trailed off.

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  Because Dee had always been something, something that pulled you in, something you couldn’t put into words.  She could tell, looking at Mulder, that he was remembering something, but she didn’t ask him what.  She was remembering something herself.

A night last year, just after she’d moved in with Starchild and Dee.  She and Dee had been sitting in the kitchen, just finishing dinner, when Starchild whirled into the living room and put on a record.  Peter, Paul, and Mary, Melissa remembered.  _See What Tomorrow Brings_.  “Come on!” she shouted into the kitchen.  “Let’s dance!”

“Okay!”  Melissa jumped up from her chair and went to join her.  Dee followed more slowly, watching Melissa and Starchild as they moved.  “Come on, Dee,” Melissa said.  “Dance with us!”

“Don’t you know how to dance?” Starchild asked.

Dee had her haughty look.  “I know how to waltz.”

Starchild started laughing.  “Well, waltz, then!” she said.

“I can’t waltz by myself—” Dee began, and then she shrugged and said, “What the hell?”  She sauntered up to Melissa, put an arm around her waist.  “Waltz with me?”

It was all just silly, all just fun, dancing around the living room while Peter, Paul, and Mary sang about love and tragedy.  “Sure,” Melissa said.  “But I _don’t_ know how.”

“I’ll lead,” Dee said.  “I always had to be the boy.”

“Gee, I wonder why that was,” Melissa said, looking up at her, and Dee made a face and pulled her in and they were dancing, clumsily but happily, and Melissa was laughing through the whole thing.  Suddenly, Dee dipped her, and she almost gasped, but then she went with it.  That heady feeling.  Suspended upside down. 


End file.
